


Take a Giant Step

by dyllpickless



Series: TUA Pride Month 2019 [8]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dave Katz Speaks Hebrew, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves Speaks Spanish, F/M, Fluff, Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jewish Dave (Umbrella Academy), Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, Multi, No Incest, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, Time Travel, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-05-14 02:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19264213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyllpickless/pseuds/dyllpickless
Summary: Soulmate AU where you don’t see color until you make eye contact with your soulmate. When they die, the world goes back to black and white.Klaus was never sure he wanted to meet his soulmate. But when he was thrust into the Vietnam War, he suddenly realized how beautiful color really was.





	1. There’s Just No Percentage in Remembering the Past

Klaus wasn’t even sure if he wanted to meet his soul mate. From where he was standing, the world was shit and no amount of color would ever make it much better. Color would just make the alleyways look dirtier and the bruises on his body look worse. What was the point?

He ignored how Diego would gush about how pink the sky was in the morning, or how beautifully brown Eudora’s eyes were. Klaus didn’t care. Love was overrated and that was that.

Blood dripped down his face and into his mouth. A few hours ago, he would have welcomed it, foolishly hoping it would help alleviate the thirst that was beginning to permeate his every thought. Instead of gratefully licking it up, he tried to shovel it out of his mouth with his tongue, nearly crying at how salty it seemed to taste.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He heard the angry woman yell in the other room. “You’re just not…” she snapped her fingers.

“I’m seeing in color,” the man whispered in return. “It’s Agnes, Cha-Cha. She’s my soulmate.”

“Jesus Christ,” the woman groaned.

“We’ve spent so long traveling through all of time and space, and I…”

They went on like that for what felt like hours, but was probably just a few minutes. He used the time that they were distracted to hop his chair to the table next to the door, tearfully ignoring how his entire body screamed at the slightest movement. _Maybe,_ he thought, _I’ll hear somebody coming and I’ll yell and get their attention._ But he seriously doubted he could hear anything, given how stuffy his head was becoming and how every sound was starting to get more and more muffled.

But, against all odds, he heard it: the gentle clicking of shoes going down the hall. Not just down the hall, but towards him. Suddenly forgetting all of the rules that Hazel and Cha-Cha had set for him, he began to scream against the duct tape that held fast against his lips. Not loud enough. He looked around frantically. The table. He scooted the chair forward a few more inches and started slamming his head down against the wood, ignoring the pain shooting like lightning just beneath his skin as he did so.

Klaus let out a sob when he heard the door beep and unlock. In through the door stepped Eudora, the lady cop that Diego wouldn’t shut up about. He’d had the pleasure of getting arrested by her before—she was always his favorite. Never took no for an answer. Once Klaus tried to run away and she swatted him on the back of the head. _Respect._ And here she was, rescuing him. She obviously didn’t recognize him, and he couldn’t care less because he was _free_ and she undid the duct tape around his wrists and he could _move_ and _stretch._ He let out another relieved sob and looked up at her with tears running down his face.

“Thank you,” he tried to say, but his throat was too dry and it just came out as a pitiful squeak.

And suddenly, all too fast for him to comprehend, Eudora was yelling and she pushed him onto the bed. The world lurched to the side and he ended up on the floor. With a mind made clear by adrenaline, he spotted the air duct and immediately got to work unscrewing the plate. It didn’t take long to get it off the wall and he climbed in, his skinny frame easily fitting through the tight hole. There was a briefcase in the way and _oh, why not,_ he thought to himself and pushed it along with him. Just before he was able to escape, the sound of a gunshot raced down the metal tunnel and punched the air out of his lungs. Klaus faintly remembered that Eudora had a gun and prayed that she was the one that pulled the trigger.

It was only when he finally stepped out into the bright sun that Klaus realized how little clothing he was wearing. He was used to not wearing much, but a ratty towel and his old coat was a new look for him. Wind raced around his ankles and whirled up his legs, making the towel flap. He shot a wink at a pedestrian and then started his walk down a sidewalk.

A bus came to a stop next to him, so Klaus climbed on and shoved whatever coins he had left in his pocket at the driver and immediately collapsed onto the seat. “Please be money. Or something I can pawn. Please,” he whispered, drawing a few looks his way. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer that he would discover something valuable enough to get him drugs. Then, he flicked open the latch.

Klaus was struck with a horrible feeling, like his stomach was being pulled into the seat behind him, and he opened his eyes. He fell to the ground—fell? He looked around, bewildered, before his eyes landed on a figure just a few feet away from him, propped up on his side and facing Klaus. Klaus’ eyes traveled up the man’s body, and suddenly he forgot how to breathe when their eyes connected. The world _exploded_ into color. The man’s eyes were bright and clear and soft. They reminded him of the cool spring mornings when everything was perfect and still, or of the babbling creek he would sometimes dip his hands into. He didn’t want to look away, but in his peripherals he could see that the tent that surrounded him were a dark, almost moist color that was dripping with the smell of mud and moss.

“What…?”

But Klaus was cut off by a different explosion. One that was loud and rattled around his brain like the bullet but _worse._ He clapped his hands over his ears, but he could still hear muffled sirens and then a man came in and started screaming at them. He tried to explain that _he had no idea what the hell was happening_ but then suddenly the man with the perfect eyes, his soulmate, who was apparently called Katz, thrust a pair of pants and a helmet at him. A few seconds later, a gun was in his hands and he was shoved onto a battle against God knows who in God knows where and God knows when.

  


Thirty seven hours since Klaus landed and he still had no idea what was going on. The fighting stopped, so he and the rest of the soldiers hiked back to what he figured was camp. Fully expecting to go back and immediately crash into the hardest nap he’d ever taken, Klaus could almost cry with relief. Though, Klaus’ luck was just getting worse. When they approached, the man everybody called Sarge was screaming at them again. Men were running around, taking down the tents and loading them onto the backs of large trucks, which roared to life and ambled away, headed by men armed with machetes.

Klaus stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment longer before he realized something. _The briefcase._ He sprinted, slipping a bit in the mud, towards where he hoped the tent he landed in still stood. By some stroke of luck, it was still up. He ran inside and grabbed the black briefcase, holding onto it like his life depended on it. _Maybe it did._

“Move!” A man yelled from behind and pushed past towards a bus.

A million questions tried to springboard off the tip of his tongue, but with a quick look around, he realized there wasn’t anybody to ask. Most of the men that weren’t running around with tents on their shoulders were boarding a bus that was the same color as most of the other things around him. So, he decided to go there.

He chose the only empty seat left on the bus and shoved the briefcase underneath the bench. All he wanted was to go to sleep, and he did that almost immediately.

Though, of course, the sleep never lasted long. The bus rumbled to life and Klaus’ eyes snapped open. He let out a soft groan of annoyance, like he was expecting all of this to be some dream. But that annoyance faded away and he let himself think. Here he was, kidnapped from his bedroom— _they didn’t even let me finish my song_ —then tortured, and then he was sent to what he was beginning to suspect was the Vietnam War. _The fucking Vietnam War._ And then, on top of all of that, he met his soulmate.

“Did you just get in the country?” A soothing voice pulled him out of his self-pity party.

Just one look in those beautiful eyes and Klaus forgot how to work his mouth. He must have said something, because the man called Katz smiled.

“Yeah, shit’s crazy.” His eyes were curious and slightly afraid, but they were deep pools of water and sapphires and Klaus wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life swimming in them. “You’ll adjust.”

_Say something._

“I’m Dave.” Dave. Dave Katz. The perfect name for the perfect person. And then it got even better: Dave held out his hand for Klaus to take, which he did without question. It was too big of an achievement that he didn’t stumble over his name when he said it.

 _Is this what love feels like? Did Diego feel like this when he met Eudora?_ Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that he would be capable of feeling like this. It hurt. It felt like somebody took his soul and laid it out in the sun and exposed it to everything the elements could throw at it. But at the same time, he’d never felt so… warm towards a person. He saw Dave and all he wanted was to be as close to him as possible. He imagined them tangled in the sheets together, the sun setting Dave’s blonde curls ablaze, and them just staring at each other and smiling and talking and touching. It was the first time he wanted the closeness without the sex. He just wanted Dave, and anything else that came with it was just a bonus. An odd, yet not unwelcome change.

“It’s going to be a long drive,” Dave said seriously, leaning against his gun like it was railing along the street and they weren’t in the middle of a war. “Could I sit next to you?”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” The briefcase forgotten, Klaus scooted closer to the window and tried not to think too much about the feeling of Dave’s skin pressing against his. “So, earlier—”

“Stevens is a light sleeper,” Dave interrupted with a pointed look. “We should wait until we set up camp tonight to talk too much.” _We’ll talk about this soulmate business later._

“Oh,” Klaus repeated like that was the only word in his vocabulary.

“So, tell me about yourself, Klaus.” Dave looked at him with the pure interest and attention that Klaus was never given before that moment.

It took a moment for the implications of the words to sink in. _I’m from 2019; I time traveled here after being kidnapped and tortured by two time traveling assassins that were looking for my 58 year old brother that is in a 13 year old body that was missing for 16 years in the house where I was raised and trained to be a superhero. I got kidnapped because I was listening to music and I couldn’t hear my ghost brother yelling at me and trying to get my attention. What about you?_ “I… erm… I don’t know. You go, and I’ll try to remember the important parts about myself.

“Well,” Dave let out a long stream of air and he thought for a moment. “I was gonna go to college.” He snuck a sideways glance at Klaus and his face dropped into a lopsided, floppy smile. “I wanted to be an astronomer. Help get a man on the moon.”

“Wow,” Klaus chuckled at the irony of it all. Because of course his soulmate loved space, and of course his assholiest of brothers just got back from four years on the moon.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. My brother just really likes space.” _Sort of not a lie._ Dave perked up and made the most adorable face, like an excited puppy. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah,” Dave said a bit too loudly, earning the pair some glares from the people around them. Dave giggled and lowered his voice, leaning in close so they could hear each other at a whisper. “I’m the youngest of four kids. Two big brothers, a sister, and then me.”

Klaus couldn’t help himself; he cooed at the image. “Little Dave.”

Dave scoffed and ducked his head. “Yeah, well…” he trailed off and licked his lips. “So is it just you and your brother?”

“Ah, no,” Klaus said with another laugh. “I’m the fourth of seven. Two girls, four guys, and me.”

“Dude, that is… out there.”

It took a moment for Klaus to translate what Dave said, but when he did he nodded. “Yeah. Get this: we all had the same birthday.” Dave looked like he had a million questions, so Klaus went ahead and tried to explain it while also making himself seem as not-fucked up as possible. “We were all adopted. Born on the same day. It was a whole thing. Birthdays sucked.”

When their laughter died out, they both looked up at the same time and _damnit if this isn’t the cheesiest thing._ Klaus sighed and looked away.

“We should both hit the rack. As soon as we get to the new location, we have to set up camp.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

One perk of sleeping on the streets for most of his life was that Klaus had the ability to sleep just about anywhere in just about any situation. That definitely came in handy when on a bus traveling down a bumpy, winding road in the Vietnam War next to your soulmate. Then again, that was just half of it. Even Klaus couldn’t fall asleep with his head against the window, slamming into the glass every other second as they went over a bump. So Klaus did what any person would do in his situation: he shifted his weight and leaned the other way. It didn’t take much adjusting for Klaus to find that Dave’s shoulder made for quite a comfortable pillow.

  


“So, about what happened back there…”

Dave’s face immediately went red and Klaus was never so glad that there was still a faint glow of the small lamp in their two-person tent than in that moment, because it was just bright enough for him to notice the color change. “I guess we’re soulmates,” he whispered.

“Of course I find my soulmate in…?” Klaus paused, hoping Dave would fill him in.

“A Shau Valley.”

“Huh?”

That earned him a weird look. “Mountain of the Crouching Beast? Vietnam?”

 _Fuck. So I am in the Vietnam War._ “Right. Sorry. Just a bit—”

“Shell shocked?”

“Yeah.”

Dave had been through that himself. Sometimes he still did get that thousand yard stare that would only be broken by time and his buddies coming to help him out. He nodded and patted Klaus on the back. “It’ll get better with time. It may not be perfect, but that’s why we’ll have each other.

  


The Vietnam War, Klaus soon found out was not a good place for a person with the ability to talk to the dead to be. He developed a habit of waking up in the middle of the night screaming. While that wasn’t too uncommon, given their situation, Klaus definitely was the one that did it the most. However, Dave, who always slept with his cot within arm’s reach, was always there for him. Luckily, they were assigned to a two-man tent, so Dave was free to climb into Klaus’ too-small cot and pull him close. He would murmur sweet words as he peppered kisses around the seance’s face. “You’re safe, motek,” he would hum.

Just his voice and his touch could calm Klaus like nothing else. He could cut through a haze of drugs and alcohol and sleep exhaustion like a knife through hot butter. It didn’t matter how out of it Klaus was, Dave was always there for him. And when Klaus was painfully sober, itching for his next fix, Dave was the only one that could ground him.

Klaus was deeply, hopelessly, doubtlessly head over heels in love with Dave Katz and there was nothing else in the world that he wanted to be. “Diego was right,” he murmured one morning, quietly enough that the man sitting across him, who was currently trying to start a fire in his converted C-Ration can with a bit of C4 couldn’t hear him.

Dave snorted. “You admitting your brother is right? Gosh, are you sure you aren’t sick?”

“Oh, shut up,” Klaus giggled sheepishly. “I’m serious!”

“Well, then, what was he right about?”

“The sky,” Klaus hummed, pulled back into his own dreamy thoughts from before. “It’s beautiful. So many colors. It’s breathtaking.”

Dave murmured something under his breath, like he was off in a dream. He’d done this a few times before, and Klaus knew that he would translate whatever he said from Hebrew after he softly brushed against him. “ _The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth His handiwork._ Psalms 19. I never really understood that line before I met you.”

“Shit. Okay, you win.” Klaus may have been agnostic, but he knew how important Dave’s faith was to him, and he was gaining an idea of how much weight what he just said really held. “I was just going to talk about all of the colors and how they remind me of you, but yeah—no—you definitely win.

A small smile that was impossible to wipe away graced Dave’s lips and he stole a quick look around to see if anybody was watching or listening in. Most of the men sitting around them were doing their best to convince themselves they enjoyed their C-Rations, and many of the others were powdering their feet or going through their regiment of stretching exercises. All of them too busy to notice when Dave quickly kissed Klaus’ cheek and whispered “I love you.”

  


“You don’t have to do this,” Klaus sighed, watching Dave get dressed from his spot on the bed.

“I do, and you know that.” He sent Klaus a pointed look through the small mirror that hung on one of the cloth walls of the tent.

Klaus held his gaze with determination, but his body fell into resignation. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”

Dave turned to his partner and kneeled in front of him. He framed Klaus’ face with his soft, gentle hands. “Don’t worry, doll. It’s a routine operation. We’ve done these a thousand times before.”

“But not alone,” Klaus pouted, leaning down into Dave’s hands.

The man smiled sympathetically and kissed the tip of Klaus’ nose. “I did this all of the time before you popped into my life.” He squeezed his face a bit before standing up so he could finish pulling on the rest of his fatigues. “I’ll be completely fine.”

Klaus watched his figure for a moment longer before sighing. He stood up and marched over to the front of the tent. “I’m coming with you.” Before his boyfriend could protest, he pushed through the flaps of the tent.

It didn’t take much to convince Sarge. If Klaus was completely honest, there was a pretty big chance that Sarge was expecting him to do this since the list of people to go on the mission was posted and everybody found out that Dave was going without Klaus. He knew the thought that he and Dave were found out should make him worry, but he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on his lips as he walked back to his tent.

“There,” he said with a satisfied smile when he walked in.

“What did you do?”

“Talked to Sarge.” Klaus turned and started packing his own bag. “I’m following you to the front lines.”

  


Klaus had gotten pretty well adjusted to battles on the front lines. He had to admit, it still shook him to his core. Once everything died down, his hands would start shaking and he wouldn’t be able to stop the tears from flowing down his face. However, during the actual firefights, he was able to keep his cool. It even got to the point where he could carry on a whole conversation from behind the gun. He’d stopped hesitating on the pull of the trigger when he started telling himself that another Charlie dead was another bullet not flying at one of his friends.

When he thought about it too much, it worried him how easily he could kill a man as long as he was Vietnamese. Late at night, Dave confessed he told himself the same thing. It was the only way he could deal with being Jewish and fighting in a war that many argued wasn’t essential. Klaus knew he paid for it in his dreams: there were many times where he was startled awake by Dave begging for forgiveness in his sleep. It broke his heart.

Klaus didn’t need to go to sleep to pay for all of the lives he took. The ghosts may have only hung around on the edges of rooms during the day, but damn, were they loud at night. There was one hellish week in particular when his dealer, Jesse, was finally shipped home. The farewell party was bittersweet, as always, but especially among the crowd of people who, like Klaus, depended on him for the thing they needed in order to get through the war. Luckily for him, there was soon a replacement, so the nights calmed down a bit.

As much as he hated it, Klaus always tried to go into firefights at least a little sober. Peterson never made that attempt, and now he watched Klaus eat from the shadows while trying to keep his guts from spilling on the ground. Instead of drugs, Klaus stuck to his witty comments and lighthearted jokes.

  


“Christ on a cracker, Dave! That was a close one!” Klaus tried to quell the panic that rose up at the sound of a bullet whizzing by so close that he could easily hear it slicing through the air.

When Dave didn’t respond, he tore his eyes away from the mess of bodies—alive, dead, and ghostly—in front of him. “Dave?”

Something about how Dave was hunkered down was wrong. His shoulders looked tense in the wrong faces and his helmet was ducked low, despite the face that Klaus could see his chin was pointed straight forward. Klaus’ heart rate sped up. _Something is wrong._

He reached out and gently shook his shoulder. Dave was supposed to turn his head and look at him with that lopsided smile he reserved just for Klaus and maybe crack a joke about Klaus being too worried all of the time. But he didn’t. His whole body moved and his head lolled to the side. Klaus pushed him harder and he rolled into his back.

All Klaus could see was the gaping, bloody hole in his chest. It was like the rest of the world faded away. No more choppers, no more gunfire, no more explosions. Just the rough, ragged breathing that tore through Dave’s mouth as he stared up at Klaus with eyes that were seeming to get more and more distant. “Oh god,” Klaus sobbed, pressing one hand to the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding and using another hand to smooth Dave’s curls back. “No, no, no, no, no!” Dave weakly lifted a hand and brushed it against his face, a move he would do whenever Klaus was in the midst of a panic attack. He had a small, sad smile on his face like he thought he was going to die and he accepted it.

_No. You’re not going to die._

“Medic!” Klaus screamed over his shoulder. He yelled it again and again. But his voice only joined the other cries for the 21 year old doctor that looked suspiciously 17. It only added to the cacophony of explosions, and helicopter blades, and grinding metal, and rumbling engines. Despite this, he screamed until his voice was raw and hoarse, then he screamed it some more. He only paused to turn over his shoulder and throw up. Through all of this, he kept both hands firmly pressed against the wound and he tried not to think too much about the squishing of Dave’s flesh between his fingers.

Klaus couldn’t see anything through the thick, hot tears that collected in his eyes and fell down his face. There wasn’t any distinction between the dark trees and the cloudy sky. He could feel the dirt he was kneeling in slowly turn into mud from Dave’s blood. Through the haze and the blur of everything, Klaus wasn’t sure if he could… _Fuck._

He couldn’t see any more color.

Klaus let out a fresh wail, this one of the purest form of pain and sorrow and fear he’d ever felt in his life. More than when he was left in the mausoleum for twelve days and only had a puddle to drink water out of. More than his first withdrawal. More than when he was close to death after a mission gone sideways. More than when Reginald beat him for wearing his mom’s heels. Klaus could feel his soul being ripped apart and he was in anguish.

At some point, he could feel Richie’s hands pulling him away from Dave. Klaus tried his best to hold onto him, but then Aidan came and pried his hands off.

“You have to let him go, Spook.”

“Go back to camp.”

Klaus submitted and nodded numbly, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to not see Dave’s glazed over eyes, but the image was burned into the backs of his eyelids. He stood up and began the long, stumbling journey back to the tents.

When he reached camp, he stood outside of his and Dave’s tent for a moment, frozen.

  


_“When we get out of here, I’m taking you to a little cabin in the woods and we’re going to live together. We won’t have to worry about hiding, or anything.”_

_Klaus smiled at the thought and wrinkled his nose when Dave brushed his finger down it. “That sounds perfect.”_

_“And we can get a dog!”_

_“And a cat!”_

_Dave chuckled and nodded. “Well, of course. That was implied.”_

_The two fell into a comfortable silence. Suddenly, Dave peeled himself away from Klaus, untangling their limbs, and sat up. “Were you telling the truth when you told me about the future? Are gays really allowed to marry?”_

__

_“Why would I lie, love?”_

_“Well.” Dave suddenly looked nervous. “If that’s the case, when we get out of here, will you marry me?”_

_“Oh my god!” Klaus pushed himself up into a sitting position and threw himself at Dave, nearly knocking the man over. “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!”_

_“I don’t have a ring,” he said sheepishly. “But I thought we could trade dog tags. Then, once we get back in the states—or if we find a jewelry store when we go on R &R—I’ll buy you a real ring.”_

_“I love you so much,” Klaus said through tears in his eyes as they traded the necklaces._

_“I love you so much more.”_

  


He finally pushed past the memories and tripped inside. He didn’t think about what it would look like if he disappeared—he had no reason to stay. Dave was the only thing that kept him in Vietnam and since he was… Well, he just had no reason to stay. So, he stumbled towards his bed, where he knew the briefcase was hidden. And as soon as his fingers got purchase on the black leather, he yanked it out and sat on the bed with it in his lap. He didn’t even pause to take one last look around the tent before he took a deep breath and opened the briefcase.

  


Klaus opened his eyes and it took a moment for what he was seeing to sink in. The seats across him were blue. The handholds were yellow. The building outside was red.

_He was still seeing color._

Klaus squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling violently, and let out a harsh sob.


	2. It’s Time You Learned to Live Again at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Diego wanted was to start a new life. He never expected… this.
> 
> Warning: Sexual assault, violence, implied child abuse

One aspect of growing up as the child of a world-famous billionaire is that one’s last name comes with a few side effects. When Diego decided he wanted to go into the Metro Police Academy, he couldn’t help but be a bit worried that his history as The Kraken may make things a bit difficult: he’d done too many things that were questionable at best in the eyes of the law to be confident. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about that, since the Umbrella Academy was a favorite amongst the police force. Who could resist their smiling faces behind the domino masks, even if they were splattered with a bit of blood?

On the application, Diego almost wrote down a name he used to whisper to himself before he fell asleep, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing it was true: Diego Martinez. He didn’t know for sure if it was his birth mother’s last name, but ever since he heard it on the radio it always stuck out in his mind, which was good enough for him. However, he knew that starting off his new life with a lie probably wouldn’t bode well, so he hastily scrawled _Diego Hargreeves_ and tried not to think too much about it.

When he handed in the application, he was met with a polite smile—not one that Diego would see when he was a kid. It made him grateful for the domino masks that Reginald always made them wear in public, hiding what their faces looked like. _At least now I have a chance at a normal life._ He scurried away before the woman could read his last name, wanting to hold onto that feeling a bit longer.

On the first day, Diego half expected to be handed a name tag and a welcome binder. He thanked the lord it wasn’t like that. Everybody mostly kept to themselves as they filtered into the too-bright classroom, which was absolutely fine with Diego. Sure, he may be making an attempt to be normal, but he wasn’t going to dive right in with a wide smile and some pep in his step. No, he was happy enough in his dark clothing in the back corner of the classroom, where he would be most likely to be left alone, with his chair balanced on the back two legs.

That is, until a woman walked into the classroom and made eye contact with him. Her eyes connected with his and suddenly the world was more than Diego had ever hoped for. Her shirt was the color of tranquility and her jacket was that of the warm earth. She’s my soulmate, he realized. Diego let out a small gasp and his chair clattered onto all fours.

The sudden noise seemed to have broken both of them out of their trance. Before Diego could do anything, a blonde woman— _She has really bright hair_ —called her name. Eudora. He watched her take a seat near the front of the classroom and rolled the name over in his mind.

As soon as they were released for lunch, Diego made a beeline for Eudora. It seemed she had the same idea, because she said a quick goodbye to her friend and motioned for Diego to hang back. Within a few minutes, they were alone in the classroom.

“Diego,” he stuttered, holding out his hand for her to shake.

She gave him an odd look— _Her eyes are beautiful,_ he realized—and took it. “Patch.” It wasn’t what her friend had called her earlier, but Diego nodded and made the mental switch. He knew too well the power that names held, and he wanted to use hers correctly.

As soon as their hands departed, all Diego wanted was to hold hers again. The feeling of her soft skin against his rough calluses and scars made his nerves tingle. A cocky smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “That’s not what your friend called you before,” he quipped, desperately trying to keep some semblance of calm.

She shrugged. “I want to be called by my last name here. It’s more professional.”

“I get it.” He let his eyes trail over her face. “So…”

“We can’t tell anybody,” she said suddenly.

To his credit, Diego recovered quickly from the surprise, his smile regaining its place. “Oh? And why’s that?”

She winced. “Relationships, especially those between soulmates, are frowned upon in the force. Conflict of interest and all that. If we want a chance to get ahead…”

Diego stuffed his hands into his pockets and nodded. “Aren’t you curious, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… we’re _soulmates._ That’s not an everyday thing.”

Patch nodded and ducked her head to look at her feet, one of which kicked the ground lightly. “I might be.”

Diego took that as a good sign and produced a small slip of paper. “My number. Call me.” He handed it to her with one final grin, then stepped out of the room. If he was the type, he would have congratulated himself for hiding how his heart was pounding in his chest. However, he wasn’t, so he just took a deep breath and headed to lunch.

  


That night, Diego sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand. Anybody looking in could tell that the man was nervous: his lower lip was trapped between his teeth, his knee was bouncing wildly, and his fingertips fluttered at the edges of the phone. Finally, he sighed and straightened up.

 _It was a long shot anyway,_ he told himself. _I shouldn’t have—_

_Ring. Ring._

_Oh._

Silently begging that it was Patch, Diego counted to five, then answered the call. “Bueno.”

He could hear the other person hesitate, but they spoke before he could try a different introduction. “Is this Diego?”

Diego’s face broke into a grin. “Patch. Knew you’d call.”

“Oh, did you?” Before Diego could respond, she pressed on. “Well, I thought about what you said.”

Diego was glad it was just a phone call, because even with his whole life of practice, he couldn’t hide the expression that crossed his face. He fixed his eyes on the red and orange—he started looking up names of colors as soon as he got home—poster across him and cleared his voice. “And?”

“Pick me up at my place at seven tomorrow night.”

“I don’t have your address…”

He could practically hear the eye roll on the other side. “Yeah, I’m going to send it to you. Dress nice.” There was a pause, and for a moment, he thought she’d hung up. “Oh, and Diego?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitated again. “Never mind. See you at the academy tomorrow.”

  


The next day was a bit more exciting than the first. For the first half, they went over state laws and common procedures, things Diego knew well enough that he wasn’t concerned when he found himself staring off in Patch’s direction instead of listening to the lesson. In the second half, they all gathered in a gym of sorts with large mats laid out on the floor. A different instructor, the type of woman that clearly tolerated no nonsense, stood before them and explained what was going on:

“In the police force, you will be expected to be able to defend yourself in hand to hand combat. I’m Marsha, and I will train you as such using moves that are mostly Krav Maga techniques, which are intended to only defend—not to kill. Do we have any questions so far?”

One particularly tall and toned man muttered something to his friend, but he didn’t raise his hand, so Marsha continued.

“Today we’ll be starting off easy, with some punches and how to block them. Please partner up, and we’ll get started.”

Diego turned to Eudora, but she was already walking off with her friend. When he turned back, the only person left was the person that was talking earlier. The man walked up to him and held out a hand with a cocky smile. “I’m Roger.”

“Diego.” He took his hand and shook it, grimacing slightly at Roger’s too-tight grip; it was like he was trying to show him up just with a handshake.

“So Patch,” Roger commented as they walked to their mat, motioning towards her and her friend. “I saw you two talking. Are you a thing? Because if not, I’m totally tapping that.”

Diego fought to keep his lip from curling in disgust. “We aren’t dating.”

They took their positions on the mat and squared up, but no punch was thrown because a loud thud which caught their attention. Across the room, Patch was helping her friend up, smiles wide on both her and her friend’s faces. Diego couldn’t help the feeling that swelled in his chest: pride that Patch took her out easily, and something he couldn’t quite place his finger on. It was interrupted, however, when Roger opened his mouth again.

“Oh, tomorrow I am definitely teaming up with her. I can’t wait to pin her to the mat and—”

A sharp crack and Roger shut up. Diego looked down at the man, who was glaring up at him from the ground and massaging his jaw. “Practice your blocks first.”

  


Diego was dressed and ready for the date two hours before he was supposed to pick her up. He went out and bought flowers that matched the shirt Patch wore when they first met. (“Blue,” the man said when Diego pointed them out. Diego repeated the word over and over under his breath.) Eventually, he couldn’t take waiting any longer and he went to her house, pulling into her driveway a few minutes before seven.

Walking up to her front doorstep, he felt almost foolish buying her flowers. Two rows of freshly planted flowers lined the front porch, and they were already much more beautiful than the ones he held. He’d never imagined that so many colors could exist, and he wanted to memorize each and every one.

“Are you coming in or not?” A voice called, pulling him from his fascinated daze.

“Oh. Sorry.” He gripped the flowers tighter and went up to the door. There stood Patch in the most amazing outfit he’d ever seen. Color bordering her deep coffee eyes made her look more like a figment of Diego’s imagination than an actual person he was about to go on a date with. “Wow.”

She smiled and beckoned him to come in. “Wow yourself. You clean up nice.”

Diego was sure she could see the heat dusting over his cheekbones. “Thanks,” he managed to get out without stuttering.

There were a few moments of silence before Patch laughed lightly. “You’re killing your flowers.”

“My—Oh. They’re for you.” He thrust them towards her. “They’re blue. Like the shirt you were wearing yesterday.”

A funny expression flashed over her face and she took them with soft words of thanks. “I’ll go get a vase to put them in,” she said, holding them close to her chest.

As Eudora made her way into the kitchen, Diego let himself look around her house. It wasn’t really anything extraordinary—she didn’t have an overabundance of decor—but it still took his breath away. There was one painting in particular that hung above the couch that caught his eye. It was a watercolor sunset over a forest. Diego held his breath as he admired all of the colors—some of which he knew the name of, but most were so beautiful he wasn’t sure if a word could be used to describe it.

“I loved that painting, even before we met,” Eudora said from behind Diego. When he turned to see her, he could see the fond smile playing at her lips. “I used to sit there and try to imagine what color everything was. Then, after I met you, I raced home and just stared at it.”

“It’s so beautiful,” Diego murmured, his eyes drifting back to the watercolor. “I didn’t think it was possible for this much color to exist.”

Eudora hummed in agreement and stepped closer to the paining to point out a certain portion of the sky. “See this color? It’s called pink. And that’s orange, and that’s… red.”

“Wow,” Diego whispered. “I think pink is my favorite.”

“Me too.”

They turned to each other and Diego realized he’d been holding his breath for so long that he would have passed out if it wasn’t for his powers. He didn’t start breathing, because suddenly Eudora was a lot closer, and she was leaning in. Diego had kissed people before, but it never held as much weight as what that kiss with Eudora did. It felt like a million colors exploding in his chest, and like he was being squashed out flat like a roll of toothpaste. He loved every second of it.

Finally, Eudora pulled away. “We’re going to miss our reservation,” she said breathlessly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah.”

  


The restaurant wasn’t as fancy as Diego expected, which was a relief. He let out a soft sigh when he stepped in and realized the lights weren’t so dim that he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. “This place is nice,” he said softly.

“I didn’t really want to go to a fancy place where we had to whisper the whole time,” Eudora replied as the host led them to their table.

Each sentence that slipped past Eudora’s lips only solidified the notion that they were soulmates. Her sharp wit matched his constant teasing as they became more comfortable with each other. They were both glad that the restaurant wasn’t overly stuffy, since they ended up laughing so loudly that they would have gotten kicked out if it. Diego was surprised when he discovered that Eudora could pronounce all of the dishes just as well as he could, which led them down a rabbit hole of talking about foreign languages well into the desert they were splitting.

“I started learning Spanish because it was required in school,” Eudora admitted, “but I continued into college because I thought it was such a fascinating and beautiful language.”

Diego grinned. “I think so too! But I started as a way to try to get closer to my heritage. I’m Mexican by blood.”

The conversation paused for a moment at the mention of Diego’s history. He knew that she knew about his time in the Umbrella Academy—it was impossible not to, since he kept his last name—but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it.

“Anyway, yeah. So I’m fluent,” Diego added.

“Really? Damn, I wish I was. Like, I can understand some stuff, but I’m certainly not fluent. Say something. If you don’t mind.”

Never one to turn down an opportunity to show off, Diego did just that. “Besarte es como ver las estrellas.”

Eudora laughed. “I got ‘stars’ out of that. What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing.”

They finished the dessert, grinning at each other as they licked their spoons clean. When Diego picked up the check, Eudora made sure to cover the tip. Afterwards, as Diego dropped Patch off at her place, she said something that made him pause:

“Hey, Diego?”

“Yeah?”

“Call me Eudora.”

Diego’s smile was so big he was sure he looked insane. But he didn’t care. Diego Hargreeves was deeply, madly in love.

  


Over the next few months, nobody could have been happier than those two. They went on regular dates, and even started staying the night at each other’s places. They would get up early and watch the sunrise together, then stay up late and watch the sunset, talking about the colors.

They only argued every so often, and when they did it was quickly turned into something that satisfied both much more. Diego had a habit of starting them when he got paranoid, a side effect of his childhood. He always made sure to make it up to her at the end, though, even if the argument never really reached a conclusion.

Eventually, Diego convinced Eudora to tell the others about their relationship and their soulmate status. It wasn’t an announcement; more like a cessation of their attempts to hide it. When it was revealed, most people didn’t have an issue with it. They had to sign a waiver for the academy, but other than that, it mostly went without a hitch. The exception was Roger.

  


The lesson of the day was more sparring, this time with dulled knives. While Marsha went to grab some extra knives, the class was left to their own devices. Eudora was talking to her friend, Ashley, so Diego was fine to keep his distance. But suddenly, something caught his eye: as Eudora walked past, Roger reached out and grabbed Eudora’s butt.

In a blink of an eye, the man was pinned against the wall with a very sharp knife embedded into the plaster just an inch from his skull. “Touch her again, I fucking dare you,” Diego growled in his ear.

“She likes it,” Roger replied, his voice strained. “Been doing it for months—she never said a thing.”

It took a moment for those words to sink in, but as soon as they did Diego was seeing red. He didn’t hear Eudora call his name—or any of the shouts from his classmates—as he reared back and punched Roger right under the jaw. Roger’s head cracked against the wall, and when he looked back at Diego, he spat blood in his face. “Famous boy can’t even look after his own girlfriend,” Roger said, his words slurring together through the blood. “Poor little Number Two.”

“Dick,” Diego hissed. He ducked Roger’s punch and was able to knock him to the ground. Within an instant, Diego was on top of him. Blow after blow, nothing could stop him. Or so he thought. Suddenly, two pairs of hands grabbed him and yanked him off. Diego skidded back a couple feet and blinked up at the people that pulled him off Roger, ready to leap on them too. But he paused when he saw it was Marsha and Eudora.

There was a moment where all anybody could hear was Diego’s panting as a person rushed forward to check on Roger, who hadn’t moved from his position on the ground. “Call an ambulance,” the person finally said.

“Diego. Out,” Marsha barked as Eudora pulled out her phone, avoiding making eye contact.

Diego stood up, his tongue swiping at blood on his lower lip. “Marsha, I—”

“Shut up and go to Captain White’s office. I don’t want to hear another word from you.” She glared at Diego until he was out of the room.

White seemed to have gotten warned in advance, because as soon as he stepped into his office, he stood up. “Hargreeves, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“He groped Eudora!” Diego shouted.

The look on White’s face turned to anger—almost as much as what was on Diego’s face. “Is that true?”

“Why would I lie?”

White sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. They both sat down as he picked out the right words to use. “Hargreeves, I understand why you did it. But I can’t support that you did it. You should have taken it to somebody. Hell, you’re sitting in the police department. This is the… You don’t have an excuse.”

Diego rubbed his hands together, then fisted them through his hair. “He touched Eudora.”

“And that will be addressed.” White sighed again. “You’re a good student. You have a lot of potential. But I can’t let somebody who’s pulled a knife on a fellow student continue in the program. Your first instinct should never be violence, and if you don’t understand that at three months into your training, then this isn’t for you.”

“You’re kicking me out of the academy?” Diego got to his feet so quickly the chair he was in knocked back.

“I have no other choice. Now get out of my office.” Diego was going to protest, but White set his jaw. “Out. Get your stuff and leave.”

Diego spat on the ground and stalked out. He stopped by the classroom to get his things before leaving the police academy.

He wasn’t sure where he was going until his car rolled to a stop outside of Eudora’s place. With a sigh, he got out and sat on the stairs leading up to her front porch.

  


After what felt like hours, Eudora was finally there. Apparently he’d fallen asleep while he was waiting, because he woke up to her impatiently tapping her foot by his head. He sat up, the knife he’d been toying with earlier sliding off his torso.

“‘Dora—”

“Save it,” she said with a sharp look.

“He—”

“I know what he did. Jesus, Diego, you didn’t have to… I mean, my position in the academy is being threatened now, because my soulmate almost killed somebody over me! This is why I didn’t want us to go public.”

“I wasn’t going to just stand there and let him do that to you,” Diego muttered darkly. The last thing he was expecting was for Eudora to be this angry about what he did.

“You should have reported it! Or let me do the reporting, because it was me that he was groping—not you.”

Roger’s words echoed through Diego’s skull: _been doing it for months—she never said a thing._ He gritted his teeth and smoothed his hand out on his pants so they wouldn’t ball into fists as he stood up. “Let you do the reporting? Roger said he’s been doing that for months.”

Eudora’s face went bright red. “You can be such an idiot sometimes,” she said, throwing her hands into the air. “Diego, most women that report peers for sexual assault are humiliated, and sometimes kicked out of school. I was going to take care of it myself once I had indisputable evidence.” She noticed the look on Diego’s face and continued with a scoff. “Of course you didn’t think of that. Because you never think before you act.”

 _I should be used to this,_ Diego thought. They’d had their fair share of explosive fights and sharp barbs at each other, but this felt different. Her words hit closer to home. He blinked quickly and set his jaw. “So, what? Was I just supposed to sit by and watch?”

“Maybe, yeah!”

“Here we go again, with you wanting me to do things your way,” Diego scoffed, his tone deepening darkly.

“Who’s the one that’s still in the Academy?”

 _Fine._ If Eudora could go for the throat, then so could he. “If you think that I can do that, then you don’t know me at all. Then all of the time we spent together was just a waste.”

Eudora was suddenly blinking a bit too quickly. “Maybe,” she said softly.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Diego corrected, stepping forward.

Almost like she was protecting herself from Diego, Eudora wrapped her arms around herself and stepped back. “I think you should go.”

“Eudora,” he protested. Despite how bad their fights had gotten in the past—and they certainly had ones that were worse—she’d never told him to leave. He hoped that he could backtrack and make her realize how extreme she was being.

That is, until she spoke again. “It’s Patch.”

Diego stumbled back. “What?”

“You don’t get to call me Eudora anymore. It’s Patch.”

  


Diego had lost the only two things left in the world that were important to him: Eudora— _It’s Patch now_ —and the police academy. At first he tried taking it in target practice. Then on a punching bag. When that didn’t work, he moved into the ring. It didn’t matter how many hits he landed, or how many he took—nothing got rid of the burning, aching feeling in his chest.

He unwrapped his fists as he stalked back to the boiler room, what was supposed to be a temporary residence. However, more and more it was beginning to look like he would be staying there for much longer than planned.

He froze in his tracks, tape still held between his teeth, when he saw something. “Chingada madre,” he growled as he stepped towards the domino mask, which glared down at him from atop a cabinet, where he’d thrown it when he first got moved into the boiler room. When he left, he took it just so Reginald wouldn’t be able to use it. But as he stood there in the too-hot room, staring at the small black mask, Diego thought that maybe there was another reason he’d shoved it into his duffle bag those years before.

It took a few minutes, but soon Diego was standing at the door. He had a dark sweater and dark pants on, with gloves and his leather harness filled to the brim with knives. He gritted his teeth and took to the streets, in search of somebody he could take down.

  


The next time Diego saw Eudora, she didn’t see him. That was by his design—he was at the back of the crowd leaning against a tree. Diego only half-paid attention as one by one, a person in uniform went up to the speaker, shook his hand after getting a badge pinned to their chest, and then walked to the other side. Sure, he knew who most of them were, but he was only there for one person.

He perked up and pushed himself off the rough bark when the speaker got to the name he was waiting for. He was mindful to stay in the shade and out of sight, but he did his best to drink in as many features as he could from how far away he stood.

“Eudora Patch.” The name echoed through the amphitheater. “In addition to receiving her certificate of graduation, the Board would also like to acknowledge her outstanding work ethic, and her willingness to go the extra mile in order to make sure that our city remains safe.”

Diego smiled to himself when she saluted to receive her badge. She then turned to look at the audience, and his breath caught in his throat when her eyes went directly to him. She immediately looked away. When her eyes turned back to the spot under the tree, he was gone.

Where he disappeared to, funnily enough, was a flower shop. He picked out blue flowers, the same he gave Eudora on their first date. He scrawled out a quick note before getting in his car and driving off.

The cellophane around the flowers crinkled under Diego’s shaking fingers when he got out of the car. Apprehension sat heavy in his chest as he walked up to the light brown door. He set the bouquet down on the welcome mat, adjusting the small note, before straightening back up. Without any knowledge of when Eudora would get back home, he knew he had to be quick so he wouldn’t get caught at her place. As soon as everything was in order, he jogged across the street and got into his car, ready to wait.

About an hour later, Eudora walked up the sidewalk to her porch, the sight of her making Diego’s breath still in his lungs. She was still in her uniform, something that shouldn’t have caught him off guard as much as it did.

Diego could tell when she saw it. Her whole demeanor changed—he shoulders drooped slightly and her steps slowed. She carefully picked the bouquet up, her fingers delicately opened the card, and suddenly her shoulders were shaking.

 _Shit,_ Diego thought when he realized what was happening. She was _crying._

“You dick.” Her voice drifted in through his open window. “Fuck you.” She held the flowers close, but was careful not to crush them. “Fuck you for making me love you.”

_Oh._

  


Being a vigilante in the same city as where Eudora Patch worked certainly made life interesting. Through the years, they worked as an odd sort of team: Diego taking out bad guys and leaving them for Eudora to take care of. Not that she appreciated it. Every time she saw him, she threatened to lock him up. Every time he saw her, his heart pounded so hard he was worried she could see his heartbeat through his clothes. He opted to wear thick sweaters just in case.

Diego always made sure to combat her empty threats with jokes and teasing. She would pull out the handcuffs, he would make a light comment about what they used to do in bed with the very same things. She would pull rank, he would make a point to use her first name.

He was nearly caught off guard when one day she told him it was “ _Detective_ Patch to you.” In order to keep a big, proud smile off his face, he commented that he’d only call her that if she admitted she liked the leather.

  


Diego was in the middle of a high stakes mission when he heard the news. He’d already tied up the criminals and left the family to free themselves, so the news didn’t affect the outcome. It still made him miss a beat, though.

_He’s dead._

_The monster is actually dead._

A small smile twitched at the corner of his lips. He was _free._

It faded when he realized what that meant. There was going to be a funeral. He was going to have to go back _there._ The place of his nightmares, which had only gotten worse since he and Eudora stopped sharing a bed.

_Fuck._

  


“Still in the shits with the lady cop?”

Diego shot Klaus a glare.

“I told you soulmates were overrated,” his sibling hummed and took a deep drag of his joint.

“Still homeless?”

“Bitch,” Klaus protested with mock offense on his face, “the city is my home. You know a spirit such as mine can’t be confined in four walls.” He shot a quick glare at a space to his left and Diego’s heart skipped a beat. Klaus did that a lot whenever they ran into each other on the streets, and sometimes Diego could swear he heard a name. Ben. Knowing that Ben might be there never failed to suck the air out of Diego’s lungs.

  


Life certainly took an odd turn. Five— _Five’s back. He’s alive. He didn’t mean to leave._ —appeared, but seemed too busy with… something. Diego did his best to distance himself from the family as much as possible: shooting glares at Vanya, pulling knives on Luther, insulting Allison. The last thing he needed was any more family time.

Sadly, he quickly got roped into the whole thing when some masked lunatics attacked the house. It got even worse after, when Luther suggested _that._

  


He didn’t know what to do. The one person in his life that openly cared about him: gone. And it was his fault. Diego couldn’t even look down at his own hands—the hands that killed his mother.

He had no idea where he was walking until he saw the colorful flowers. It was too early for her to be awake, and he didn’t want to wake her, so he collapsed on her front doorstep and closed his eyes, willing away the tears. The irony didn’t escape him. The last time he’d laid on her front porch was when Eudora broke up with him, and here he was all those years later in search of her comfort. He pushed away his doubts and took a deep breath.

“What are you doing here?” A soft voice made his eyes open to see her eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Hey, are you okay?” She sat next to him and handed him her coffee.

Thankfully, she knew him well enough to decipher his stutters. But despite her understanding, he still managed to mess it up. One moment he was trying to talk about his feelings, and the next he made a comment and she instantly went on the defensive. It was his fault—he knew that—but the shift still hurt. He figured it was easier than opening up, though.

“You always loved telling me what I can and can’t do,” he snapped. “You know, maybe for once just try things my way.”

“I can’t,” she said, looking resigned.

Diego scoffed. “No wonder we didn’t last.”

“Yep.” Her voice sounded strained as she got up and started walking away. Just before she disappeared, she turned back. “I’m sorry about your mom, Diego. I really am.”

  


The door clicked shut and Diego couldn’t help the triumphant smile on his face. “She needs me,” he muttered under his breath, the thrill of being needed by Eudora again far outweighing his instinct to act tough around Luther.

“You go help her—I’ll stay here with Five.”

“Okay. Yeah. I’ll be—”

Diego froze in his tracks.

“Uh, Diego?” Luther stepped forward, partially in his brother’s vision. “You okay?”

Diego just barely shook his head and stumbled back until he hit the wall behind him.

“Jesus. Uh, tell me what’s wrong.”

None of the Hargreeves siblings were ever known for being the most emotionally adept, and Luther was no exception. However, to his credit, he tried his best. He stepped closer and set a heavy hand on Diego’s shoulder. He knew enough about his brother to be concerned when it wasn’t immediately shrugged off.

“I can’t…” Those two words were lost in a sea of broken syllables and harsh sobs.

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t see color. It’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3 Comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> Author's Note
> 
>   * Besarte es como ver las estrellas. = Kissing you is like seeing the stars.
>   * Chingada madre = Fucking mom. (Basically means motherfucker)
>   * Wow, so this took a while to write. Sorry about that, guys. Life happened and I didn’t have time to write much more than a few oneshots. I’m hopefully getting back on track, though.
>   * Roger is an OC that [@yellow-tua on tumblr)](https://yellow-tua.tumblr.com/) and I made. We hate him, and I hope you hate him too. Having Diego put him in the hospital was definitely therapeutic lol
>   * The chapter titles and series title are from a really fantastic song called “Take a Giant Step” by The Monkees. It has massive Klave and Diedora vibes and it’s such a great song. I highly recommend it.
>   * There’s a quote from an interview that David Castañeda did that really was my inspiration for this chapter: “Él prefiere dolor a placer.” It basically means that Diego prefers pain to enjoyment/happiness. Super sad, right?
> 



	3. Come with Me, Leave Yesterday Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus returns from the Vietnam War with a mystery: why can he still see color?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: PTSD, referenced drug use

_“You can do this, ahuvì. I know you can. Maybe not right now, maybe not here, but you can and you will. And I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”_

_Klaus sniffed and nodded, choosing to ignore the dig of the bark into his back and the squish of the mud that had invaded his boots. “I’m sorry that I—”_

_“Hey, don’t apologize.” Dave knelt down to get on Klaus’ level. He reached out a hand and gently grabbed Klaus’ chin to make him meet his gaze. “Don’t ever apologize. You’re in a war zone, doll. Even somebody without your powers would be driven to drugs. I’ve seen it happen.” He paused, his eyes dragging over the too many fresh track marks on his lover’s arms. “If you want to get clean—”_

_“I do.”_

_Dave nodded. “It’s okay if we have to wait until we get back home. If this is what you have to do, then it’s what you have to do.”_

_“I still want to try.”_

“We can—”

  


Too soon, the memory was overtaken by invisible blades of a helicopter flying low overhead, the air writhing in pain from the overpowering noise. The music that Klaus had put on in an attempt to calm himself distorted into screams and cries for help. There was one specific voice that stood out to him; he remembered it well. It tore through one of the squad’s many silent treks through the rainforest when Frank stepped into a trap, a misstep that ended up costing him his leg. When Klaus closed his eyes, the image of mangled flesh lit up by flashes of bullets ravaged his mind.

The gunfire was oppressive, the smoke suffocating, the noise deafening. The ambush that inevitably followed the booby trap wasn’t unique in any way during the Vietnam War—Klaus remembered that much—but seeing the eighteen year old writhing on the ground while also trying to take cover from the mini firefight was something that Klaus didn’t think anybody could ever get used to, no matter how many times they went through something like it.

“Klaus,” came a shout, sounding like the name had been repeated in a desperate crescendo, though that was the first time it had broken through the noise.

“Wh—?” Klaus’ head snapped up, not even giving himself time to wonder when he had curled into the fetal position in the cold bath water. “Ben?”

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Klaus blinked away the flashes of light and the bits of leaves to peer at his brother, who sat perched on the sink, sizing Klaus up from behind a book. “Oh, hey Benny. Missed you.”

“Missed me? I repeat, what the absolute fuck happened?”

“I went on a little trip,” Klaus giggled, the sound quickly turning into a sob.

“Are you high?”

The sigh that escaped Klaus’s lips was too wistful and sad to be normal. “Not as high as I wish I was,” he responded. “Just some Dexies, weed, and a bit of H from last night.”

Just how nonchalant Klaus’ voice was made Ben want to be sick. It was twisted that Klaus had that much in his system and it still wasn’t enough. He was going to make a comment about the excess of it all when he realized something: “You didn’t do heroin last night. You haven’t done it in months.”

Klaus was climbing out of the bathtub, but he sunk back down in the water in defeat. “ _My_ last night,” he clarified.

“‘Your… Wait. Did you time travel?”

“Got it in one try. Always knew you were the smart one.”

Ben jumped off the counter. “Holy shit! Where—When did you go?”

Klaus took a shuddering breath, his fake smile dropping. “A Shau Valley. Mountain of the Crouching Beast. 1968.”

“The Vietnam War?”

He swallowed harshly, squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded.

“How long?” With Ben’s shock dulled, his voice quieted down to more of a whisper.

“Ten months.” His voice wavered and his hands shook, his knuckles nearly as white as the bathtub he was gripping.

“Why did you stay?”

Klaus shook his head and got out of the bath. Ben averted his eyes until a towel was wrapped around his sibling’s torso, and when he turned he could see a few new tattoos.

“Klaus, what the hell?”

“I met someone, okay?” Klaus snapped, turning around and glaring at his brother before gathering his things and leaving the bathroom. Ben quickly followed suit.

“You _met_ someone? Who?”

“His name was Dave!” Klaus was sounding more impatient and closer to tears by the second. “He… I fell in love with him.” His lip wobbled as he dropped the towel and pulled on his favorite pair of leather pants. If he was in a better mood, he would have commented how much he missed them when he was in Vietnam.

The temple tattoo on Klaus’ stomach didn’t pass under Ben’s radar, but he decided it wasn’t the time to point it out. “Shit. So he…?”

Before Klaus could reply, the voice of a third person was behind him. Klaus whipped around, his bloodshot eyes wide and terrified and his body preparing to fight the intruder. His posture dropped when he realized it was just Five.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Oh… You know.” Klaus waved a dismissive hand.

“New tattoos?”

He huffed out a pitiful laugh. “Yeah.” He closed his eyes and suddenly he was _there._

  


_“I can’t believe you got this tattooed on you,” the man murmured against the other’s throat._

_Klaus preened under the affection, his smile brighter than the sun that he always compared his boyfriend to. “Do you like it?”_

_“Like it?” Dave’s fingers skirted around the sensitive skin on Klaus’ stomach. All he wanted to do at that moment was press kisses to it and trace the black lines with his tongue, but he knew it would hurt Klaus, so he resisted the urge. “I love it. So, so much.”_

  


“Klaus! I asked you a question!”

“Hm?” Klaus finished pulling a loose shirt over his head and checked that his dog tags were still around his neck before he turned to his brother.

“Jesus, you really did it, didn’t you?” Five jutted his chin out and tilted his head, looking at his sibling with a mixture of amazement and impatience.

“What did I do?”

“You time traveled.”

Klaus snorted, though there was no real emotion other than sadness behind it. “Is it that obvious?”

“I know the signs.” Five sized his sibling up with a newfound sense of respect. “Where?”

Klaus shot a look at Ben, who was scanning him with a sort of confused interest. “Vietnam War. Stayed for ten months because I met someone. My soulmate. Color and everything.”

Five rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Klaus.”

A sob bubbled up from Klaus’ chest. “He got shot,” he cried to the taken aback Five and the carefully listening Ben. “I couldn’t see any color.”

“That’s usually what happens, yeah.” Five was never very comfortable when it came to soulmate talk, and that hesitation only grew within the 45 years he spent in the apocalypse.

“But when I came back, I could see them again.”

The book Ben was holding promptly fell from the ghost’s hands. “Woah.”

Five’s fingers twitched, and he quickly shoved them into his pockets. As fascinating as this was—as much as he wanted to start scrawling out equations and figuring out what the hell was happening—there was a much more pressing matter at hand. “Where’s the briefcase?”

Klaus sniffed. “Huh?”

“The briefcase! The one you used to travel through time. I need it.”

“I-I destroyed it. Poof. Gone.”

Five gritted his teeth and growled quietly. With a soft noise and a flash of blue light, Five left Klaus to collapse on his bed.

  


“What the fuck are you doing?” The rough words pushed through the music he’d been blasting at full volume.

“What?” Klaus snapped, ripping the headphones off. It took a few moments to untangle his limbs from the contorted position he was holding, but when he did, he narrowed his eyes at Diego—who stood leaning against the doorframe with suspiciously bloodshot eyes. “Leave me alone,” he mumbled and dropped his head back onto the pillow.

If they were still kids, Diego would have silently entered the room and climbed into bed with Klaus, folding their limbs together until Klaus finally opened up on his own terms. But they weren’t kids, and Diego was looking to get out of the house as quickly as possible so he could start tracking down whatever cabrón killed Patch. “Alright,” he mumbled and pushed off the doorframe.

A small sigh, one that couldn’t have come from Ben or Diego, caught Klaus’ attention just before he lowered the headphones back over his ears. He let his eyes flick over to the source of the noise. As soon as he realized who it was, he dropped the headphones back onto his chest. “Holy shit,” Klaus whispered.

Diego stopped and turned back, a look of slight concern overtaking his face. “What?”

“Don’t let him know I’m here,” the lady cop— _Diego’s_ lady cop—said from beside the man. “He needs you right now, though. Don’t let him out of your sight.”

Klaus nodded faintly and looked back to Diego. “Nothing. Ghost with a massive dildo shoved up his—“

“Nope. Shut up. Don’t even know why I asked.” Diego turned and started walking out.

Eudora sent Klaus a pointed look. “Wait,” Klaus protested, not willing to argue with a ghost. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere with you.”

A few minutes later, Klaus was clambering into the passenger seat of Diego’s car. “Where am I dropping you off?”

“Just drive.” Exhaustion was starting to set in, so Klaus just let his head rest against the window.

“Why are you so tired?”

“I haven’t slept in, like, 35 hours, or something. And the Dexies are wearing off.”

“So you’re making me drive you so you can get your hands on more shit to put in your body?” Diego asked, frowning. There was no way in hell he was going to participate in his sibling’s drug habit.

Klaus laughed, though there wasn’t any humor behind it. “I’m getting sober, actually. But thanks for the concern, _bro._ ”

“Wow. Really? You’d think with everything that’s been going on…”

“Yeah, well, I made a promise to somebody.”

It took a few moments for Diego to find his words, which were hidden by the shock that took hold of his tongue. “Who?” he asked incredulously. He could remember all of the times he’d begged Klaus to sober up and couldn’t help but wonder why that person wasn’t him.

Klaus squeezed his eyes shut, making a tear drip down onto his cheek. “His name was Dave,” Klaus said, his shoulders relaxing at the feeling of Dave’s name on his tongue.

Diego frowned. “How do you know this _Dave?”_

“It’s a long story.”

“I have time,” he said tersely. He could listen to Klaus as he made his way to stake out Griddy’s. It wasn’t like he had anything better to listen to.

“I’m…” Klaus sighed and avoided making eye contact with the two ghosts staring at him imploringly from the back seat. “I… I loved him. He’s the only person I ever truly loved more than myself.”

  


_“Klaus.” The voice was steady and gentle, yet strong enough to pierce through the cloud of pain and panic that had set into Klaus’ mind._

_“I can’t… They’re so loud.” Klaus was rocking back and forth in the corner of their two-man tent when Dave walked in. The man wasn’t surprised to see him in such a state—he’d dealt with many of Klaus’ panic attacks before, and knew just how to help him._

_Dave cautiously made his way towards Klaus, making sure not to make any sudden movements. He crouched down in front of the person and peered up at him. “You can do this, yekirì. I know you can.”_

_When Klaus’ eyes connected with Dave’s, the terror in his mind slowly started to retreat from Dave’s presence. A small whimper escaped his lips, and Dave swiftly took Klaus in his arms, holding him in his lap and curling over him protectively. “You’re okay,” Dave repeated against Klaus’ hair. “I love you.”_

  


Klaus closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. Thankfully, he’d apparently babbled enough as he zoned out that Diego was able to piece together what had happened, so he didn’t have to revisit it any more than he already had.

“Were you…?”

“Soulmates,” Klaus sniffed.

By that point, they had reached their destination across the street from Griddy’s Doughnuts. “Eudora, the detective that saved you,” Diego started eventually, his eyes fixed straight ahead at the parking lot of the small diner. “She died. Shot by some prick in a motel. Didn’t even have the dignity to look her in the face while they did it.”

Klaus couldn’t help but glance at the ghost of the woman that was sitting in the back seat. “Oh,” was all he could really manage to say. “I could—”

“I don’t want you to conjure her,” Diego interrupted, his voice becoming firm again. “I don’t—” he had to pause and clear his throat. “I don’t want her to see me before I can tell her I made the life drain from those that did this to her.”

The woman in question took a shaky breath from behind. “I don’t want him to do this to himself. He needs to move on.”

Klaus shook his head slightly. “From what I remember about your lady cop—”

“Detective,” Diego corrected.

“—Detective,” Klaus repeated, “I don’t think that’s what she would have wanted. Here, tell me what you like about her.”

Diego shot him a look and sighed. “Shit, man, I really don’t want to do this right now.”

“Come on! It’ll make me feel better.” He stuck out his lower lip.

“Fine. Yeah. Alright.” He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together. “Cute butt. Nice legs.”

Klaus barked out a laugh. “Oh! And they say romance is dead!” He draped a hand over his chest. “Be still my beating heart! No wonder—”

“Shut up,” Diego scoffed. “Fine, you want the… feelings and shit?”

“Yes. Give me the feelings and shit.”

“She… She sees—s-saw—the good in people. Even though her work made her deal with the worst of the worst, she was still so kind and gentle with everybody. She saw the worst shit humanity had to offer and then turned around and was willing to sacrifice it all for any person she saw on the side of the road.”

Klaus stayed silent for a few moments, the sound of Eudora sniffling the only thing he heard. Once the words had hung in the air for long enough, he took a quiet breath. “Do you think she would want you to do that? Kill whoever killed her?”

Diego pressed his lips together and didn’t answer, shifting to lean forward in his seat.

“Hey, I know him,” Klaus said suddenly, pointing out the window.

“Huh?”

“He and a really angry lady _tortured_ me in a motel room. I barely escaped with my life.”

Klaus watched as Hazel got into his car. Diego cursed under his breath and quickly started the car and drove off.

  


They followed the car back to a motel. When Hazel left, Diego made sure to attach a tracker to the underside of the man’s car before returning to where Klaus was sat limply in the passenger seat. “Stay here,” Diego said firmly.

“What? No, I’m not doing that. I’m coming with you.”

  


_“Breathe,” Dave chuckled. “We’re the only ones out here. We’ll be okay.”_

_Klaus sighed and let his shoulders relax—the feeling of Dave’s fingers massaging the back of his neck always did wonders for his nerves. “Okay. I’m ready.”_

_“Your keys are in the ignition already, so you don’t have to worry about that. If this Jeep had mirrors, I’d have you check them, but…”_

_Klaus giggled at the memory. “Thank you, George.”_

_Dave nodded, a smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, George,” he repeated. “Now, the pedal on your left…”_

  


Thanks to Dave, Klaus could drive. Well, he could keep the ice cream truck on the road, stomp his foot on the pedal, and aim it at the two people that tortured him within an inch of his life. With Diego yelling for him to go faster, Eudora cheering, and Ben shouting with delight, Klaus could almost forget about everything that had happened.

Five disappeared, but when doesn’t he? Klaus certainly wasn’t worried. He let himself smile a genuine smile as they sped away from the scene.

A mixture of his withdrawal and sheer exhaustion from the recent events seemed to hit Klaus at the same time as he sat in the back of the car, his head on Diego’s shoulder and his eyes drifting shut.

He stirred briefly, opening his eyes just enough to see a flash of Diego carrying him up the stairs of the mansion. Before he could even say anything, though, he fell back asleep.

  


Somehow, even though he was getting more and more sober as the clock ticked away, Klaus slept through the night. That is, until he heard a rather loud bang from another part of the house. Klaus jolted awake, clutching at his pillow like it was his trusty M16.

Ben recognized the panic in Klaus’ eyes. “Klaus, calm down,” he said smoothly, leaving his perch to carefully approach his sibling. “You’re in 2019, in the mansion. You’re alright. It’s not the war. And it’s not the mausoleum.”

Slowly but surely, the muscles in Klaus’ body relaxed. He fell forward into the pillow he was clutching in a death grip just a few moments before and let out a dry sob.

“Klaus, what’s wrong?” Came a soft, feminine voice: Eudora.

“I can still see color,” Klaus replied, his voice muffled. “I can still see fucking color, but I don’t know where the fuck he is. I thought it was my imagination, but…” He whipped his face up to stare at the only two ghosts that weren’t wailing his name. “I saw him die. I _felt_ him die. Why do I still see color?”

Ben pressed his lips together. “The only explanation is that he’s still alive.”

“But that’s impossible! He’s dead! Unless—” Klaus cut himself off into a gasp.

“What?”

Klaus scrambled out of his bed, grabbing a sharpie in his trembling hands, and lunging over to a blank spot on the wall. He started scribbling.

“Klaus, tell us what’s going on,” Ben said carefully.

The person in question whipped around to address the two ghosts. “What if I still see color because he’s still alive?”

“That’s what Ben just said.”

“Yeah, but… I mean, time travel, right? What if Five went back and saved him after I left? And that’s why I still see color? Because he’s alive! Now!”

All were silent for a few moments. It was broken by Ben: “You know, sometimes I forget how smart you can be when you actually think.”

“So you think I’m right?”

“I think you have a shot.”

Klaus grinned at both of them and ran out of the room. Ben shook his head at Eudora, just grateful that Klaus was wearing clothes for once.

  


“Oh, good. You’re here.” The poison that laced Luther’s voice made Klaus skid to a stop, his smile wavering.

“Er, yeah. I have some news. Where’s Five?”

Diego was watching him carefully as he flipped a knife in his hand. “We aren’t sure. He hasn’t shown up yet.”

Klaus all but deflated and collapsed on the small couch, not even acknowledging Allison’s pseudo-sympathetic look.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Luther said, side eyeing Klaus’ dramatic sigh. “We have something more pressing.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?” Klaus hummed.

“The apocalypse. The world is ending in three days.”

“Oh. That’s…”

“Wait, what?”

Luther gave a brief explanation, until something stuck out to Diego: “What exactly did Five see?”

“Uh… apparently we were all together when it happened.” Luther quickly pushed onto the next subject, something everybody caught onto immediately. He sighed. After a bit of probing, he said it. “We died.”

Klaus shot a despairing look at Ben and Eudora, then leapt to his feet. “God... I need Five! I can’t just fucking die! Not after all of this!”

Right at that moment, there was a crackle of blue electricity over the bar—something Klaus had been trying to ignore—and Five fell into the room. Allison was the first to notice Five was injured, but he quickly brushed it off and stole her coffee. “We have a problem.”

“Exactly! Five, I know why I’m still seeing color!” Klaus shouted, whirling around to address his brother.

“Klaus, this isn’t the time—”

Luther scoffed. “Is there any way to silence that voice in your head that screams out to be the center of attention? We get it: you’re high. Shut up so we can deal with this. The actually important thing.”

“He’s sober,” Diego offered. He raised an eyebrow at Luther’s look and gestured at his sibling. “Look at him, pendejo. Clear eyes, sweats, itchy skin. He’s going through withdrawal. He has been since yesterday.”

“But he’s acting—” Luther started.

“Oh my god, shut up,” Five shouted. “Shut it. All of you. I’m—I don’t have time for this.”

By that point, Klaus was crying, his voice partially giving out. “He’s not dead! He’s not dead, he’s not dead, he’s not—”

Five’s shoulders dropped and he turned to Klaus with a sharp glare. “How can he not be dead?” Five sighed, addressing Klaus like he was a toddler throwing a fit.

“Because you brought him back! Or, you will. You have to.”

“I can’t just change the timeline. Especially not with the Commission hot on our tail.”

“The what?” Allison interjected, but Klaus spoke over her.

“You wouldn’t be!” he urged. “You wouldn’t be because I already see color. Please, I need—”

A small, soft voice shattered the conversation. “What’s going on?”

“Vanya,” Allison said equally softly, her shoulders dropping from their defensive position. “It’s a… um… a family matter.” She glanced at the strange man that was standing in their living room, next to their sister.

“A family matter? Oh, so of course you didn’t invite me.”

“Vanya, we—”

“A hammer? Gross!” Klaus gasped suddenly, staring at a spot behind and to the right of the man that accompanied Vanya. The only sign that he was crying just a few moments before was the black streaks on his cheeks.

“Huh?”

The man’s face twisted in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Klaus whistled lowly and chuckled, sizing up the stranger. “Shit, dude. You’re fucked up.”

“Hey,” Vanya protested, stepping forward.

“Vanya, this ghost says she knows you.” Klaus’ attention floated over to his sister. “Does the name Helen Cho ring a bell?”

Vanya gasped quietly, somehow getting paler than she already was. “What?”

“Your little beau over here killed her. And a very angry man.” Klaus’ nose crinkled as he addressed the bludgeoned, snarling ghost. “You’re a prick. I’d want to kill you too.”

“Could somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Luther asked.

“Vanya’s boyfriend here has some ghosties following him around,” Klaus hummed. “And neither of them are very happy.”

“You killed Helen?” Vanya shrieked, whirling around to push the man.

“What? Vanya, no. I—He’s lying. He’s clearly on a bunch of drugs, and—”

“I’m sober, bitch!” Klaus crowed, just as Diego pushed off the counter and started yelling at the stranger to get away from his sister.

Luther took a rather diplomatic step forward. “You can come with me the easy way, or the hard way.”

“What?” The man backed up.

“Go with him, Leonard,” Vanya said, her voice shaking. “Or I’m calling the cops.”

“Harold,” Klaus mumbled.

Five’s head whipped around to look at his sibling. “What did you just say?”

“His name is Harold Jenkins.”

“Holy fucking—Luther!”

Harold seemed to realize just how much danger he was in, because he suddenly took off in a dead sprint for the exit. Much like a large truck, Luther had a hard time starting off fast. Thankfully, the glint of light against Diego’s knife was like a bolt of lightning, and the man was stopped in his tracks. He let out a shout and clutched at the elegant knife that was sticking out of the back of his leg.

“Get him,” Allison said coldly, stepping over to her sister.

For once, Luther didn’t seem to have a problem with taking orders. He walked over to Harold and grabbed him, hoisting him over his shoulder. “I know where we can put him until we figure out what to do with him.”

  


Diego sneered at the man through the thick glass. He muttered some choice words, fluctuating between Spanish and English and increasing in speed.

“I just can’t…” Vanya hiccupped and let herself get hugged by Allison. “I didn’t know.”

Allison shushed her softly. “It’s okay. It’s alright. None of this is your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

Harold lunged at the glass, making Vanya flinch back. “I wanna go,” she mumbled.

“Alright. Guys?” She got her siblings’ attention. “I’m taking her up to my room.”

Nobody objected as the pair left. “So, what are we going to do with this prick?” Diego growled, his knife dancing and flipping between his hands.

“Nobody lays a hand on him before I do,” Five said firmly.

“What? Why do you get authority over this?”

Five rolled his eyes. “I…” He broke off into a sigh. “I have reason to suspect that he is the cause of the apocalypse. Or, his life leads to the apocalypse. I need to figure out what he knows and get to the bottom of this.”

Klaus let out a slow puff of air. “You have to admit, that’s a pretty good reason.”

“Whatever,” Luther grumbled. “I’m going upstairs. I think this whole thing has something to do with the moon.”

That left three: Diego, Five, and Klaus. Five people, including Ben and Eudora. “I’m not letting him out of my sight,” Diego promised the two he could see.

Five nodded. He could feel Klaus’ wide eyes on him, and he sighed. “I can’t promise this will work,” he said.

Klaus’ lip quivered. With the momentary distraction temporarily dealt with, he couldn’t stand strong against the waves of emotion that crashed over him. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright. Then let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3 Comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
>   * Ahuvì = My love (Hebrew)
>   * Cabrón = Bastard (Spanish)
>   * Yekirì = My dear (Hebrew)
>   * Pendejo = Stupid (Spanish)
>   * Dexies (dextroamphetamine pills) were military issued amphetamine pills given to soldiers as a sort of energizer.
>   * M16s were rifles that were commonly used by American soldiers in the Vietnam War.
> 



	4. And Take a Giant Step Outside Your Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Taking over a month to update? It's more likely than you think. ~~I'm so sorry you guys I hope this makes up for it.~~

“Christ on a cracker, Dave! That was a close one!”

Five pressed his lips together and scanned the row of men, all packed in behind the bags of sand and in the thick mud. It was hard to imagine his own sibling in this mess, but there he was, about to witness his soulmate dying. _Or so he thinks,_ Five amended.

“Dave?”

The broken, desperate screams ripped through the air, pushing through the fire of bullets and nearing explosions. Five gritted his teeth and watched the pair closely. There was no way he would be able to rid this scene from his mind, but he had to make sure he came in at just the right second. Seconds stretched into minutes and he could feel time slipping away into the stifling atmosphere.

Finally— _finally_ —somebody pulled Klaus to his feet and led him away. As soon as he was sure nobody would notice, Five took a deep breath and jumped over to the dying man—Dave. He grabbed his hand, closed his eyes, and with a sharp jerk behind his stomach, landed in 2019, a few days before Hazel and Cha-Cha were due to attack the mansion.

“Oh, Five. I didn’t see you there,” Grace said with a smile.

Five grimaced from underneath the bleeding man. “We need to go to the infirmary. Now.”

Grace tilted her head. “I’m not sure I…”

“Christ.” He rolled his eyes and pushed past her, heaving Dave onto a hospital bed. “You can’t tell anybody that he’s here, alright?” Five called over his shoulder. “Swear to me you won’t tell.”

“Of course, sweetie.”

He sighed. “I need you to go get Pogo.”

“Sure thing, honey. I’ll be right back.”

An odd, incessant buzzing at the back of Five’s mind kept pulling him away from the task at hand: keeping Klaus’ soulmate alive. _What’s wrong with Mom?_ But he didn’t have time for that. Pogo would know where the serum was, and he’d be able to assist Five in keeping the man alive. And that would be enough for the time being.

“Master Five,” Pogo spluttered. “What is going on? Who is this?”

“I don’t have time to explain. He’s dying,” Five urged. “We need the serum that you used to save Luther. Preferably the updated kind.”

“Er… right.” He shuffled across the room and unlocked a cabinet, pulling a rather large syringe and a vial out of it.

“Give it to him. I’ll monitor his vitals.”

The two fell into silence as they got to work—Pogo injecting the fluid into Dave’s chest, and Five jumping around, keeping a constant eye on all of Dave’s readings.

“May I ask who this man is?” Pogo asked, gently placing the needle onto a small tray off to the side. All they had at that point was time to wait.

Five sighed and sat on a chair near the bed. “Yeah, sure. He’s…” He glanced at the door. “Klaus’ soulmate.”

“Oh, my.” Pogo frowned and sat down as well. “Why… what happened to him? Where is Klaus?”

Questions were inevitable—Five knew that—but that didn’t make them any less irritating. “Klaus isn’t here because he doesn’t know this man is his soulmate yet. And I’m sure you can tell by his clothes, he’s from the Vietnam War, where Klaus will end up in—” Five checked a clock on the wall “—well, a few days.”

“Time travel?”

“Yep.” Five popped the ‘p.’ “What’s wrong with Mom?”

Pogo shifted his weight. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“She didn’t do anything when I appeared.” Five narrowed his eyes. His years he spent working for The Commission made him especially talented at spotting when a person was hiding something. This was definitely one of those times.

“Ah. Well…” Five was sure the pause was so he could choose his words carefully. “Your father had been fixing her program, and temporarily shut off her first aid abilities. I suppose he never got around to turning it back on.”

Five tilted his head in thought and he remained quiet. It was certainly something to think about.

“I’ll make sure nobody comes in here.”

A small smile twitched at Five’s lips and he suddenly realized how tired he was. “Thank you.”

  


The next day was boring to say the least. Five had to stay inside the infirmary the entire time, trusting Grace and Pogo to bring him food and water, and keep everybody away. It was nice to be able to let down his guard, even if he immediately brought it back up at the smallest sound.

Five’s eyes were beginning to slide off the page of the book he was reading when suddenly he heard a different sound: a deep intake of breath. He turned to look at the man on the bed, whose nose was starting to scrunch up.

“Wh…? Where am I?” he slurred.

“Nice to see that you’re awake,” was Five’s reply, quietly shutting his book.

Dave tried to sit up, but winced and softly fell back onto the bed. “Where am I?” he repeated a little more firmly.

A small, annoyed sigh slipped past Five’s lips. “Tell me what you remember.”

“I… I remember going to the front line. Private Klaus was to my left, Private Matthew to my right. We were taking on heavy enemy fire. I think I got shot.”

“Private Klaus?” Five smirked, laughing slightly. “Is that what all people in the sixties called their soulmate?”

Dave took on a more defensive posture, scooting as far away from Five as his bed would let him. “How do you know that?” he asked quietly. Five could see the fear behind his eyes—not for himself, but for Klaus.

“I’m from the future. Your future, and a few days after today. I’m Klaus’ brother.”

“Five?”

“Yeah.” His face twisted slightly. “He told you about me?”

“He told me about all of you.” There was a pause and Dave’s eyes darted around the room. “So you know about Klaus and I—”

“Yeah.”

“—But you aren’t mad? Or upset?”

Five took in a deep breath and readjusted so he could more directly address Dave. “I know he’s not straight, and I know he’s non-binary.”

“And you aren’t mad?”

“Of course not. I’m sure he told you things have changed since the sixties.” Dave nodded and it was all Five could do to not get down on his knees and pray to a God he wasn’t sure existed that Klaus didn’t mess up the timeline too much. “This is one of the things that are different. Most people are more accepting of that now.”

“Oh. Good.” Dave replied haltingly before he went back to scanning the room.

“You can’t see him,” Five said firmly once he realized what he was looking for.

Dave’s eyes somehow got even wider, and they zeroed in right on Five. “Why not? Is he okay?” He shoved the sheets off his body and strained to swing his legs over the edge and place his feet on the cold tile floor.

“Dave, get back into bed.” Five shot to his feet and held out a hand, trying to corral him.

“You need to take me to Klaus,” he insisted. He tried and failed to stand, so he decided to remain firmly—yet indignantly—on the bed. “I need to see him.”

“He doesn’t know about you.” The words spilled out of Five’s mouth before he could stop them. It certainly wasn’t the type of bedside manner Grace would approve of, but he couldn’t take it back, so he pressed on. “He doesn’t know you exist.”

Dave paused. The pain he felt was infinitely worse than when the bullet tore through his chest. “What?”

Five sighed and sat down next to Dave once he recognized that there wasn’t a threat of him getting up and rushing out. “Klaus is from your future,” he reiterated. “He won’t go to Vietnam for another few days. If he sees you now, he might never go to Vietnam, and then we’ll have a paradox, and I really don’t have time to work one of those out.”

“I…” The man’s shoulders slumped as he set his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands against his eyes. If Five was a betting man—which he wasn’t—he would have put all of his chips on the chance that tears were pricking at the backs of Dave’s eyes. A small, strangled sound came from where he was curled in on himself, only confirming Five’s suspicions.

“Is there anything I can do?” Five certainly only asked out of obligation and etiquette, not because he cared.

“I guess I’m a bit hungry,” Dave sighed, readjusting so he was in his original position.

Five nodded. “I’ll get my mom to make you something.”

Almost like magic, Grace walked in just at that moment. “Oh, it’s good seeing you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

“Hey, Mom.”

Dave gaped at her. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was back in the fifties, based off what she was wearing. What only added to his confusion was how young she looked. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought she was as old as him and Klaus. “You’re Klaus’ mom?”

“The very one,” she beamed, busying her hands by straightening the corners of Dave’s sheets. “I hear you’re his soulmate. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She extended a polite, delicate hand, which Dave shook.

“I—Thank you.” He realized how much he must have been staring, so he cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on the simple pattern of Grace’s dress, then the jars lining the shelves in the infirmary. “Is he doing alright?”

Grace’s smile seemed a bit more fixed than before. “Of course, sweetie. Now, you look hungry. I’ll go make you something.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Dave looked down at his hands. “Er, if it isn’t too much trouble, do you think you could make it kosher?”

“It’s not a problem at all.” She set a gentle hand on the edge of the bed Dave was in, on a stack of pillows that was propping him up. “It’ll be ready shortly. I’ll send Dr. Pogo in to check on your well-being.”

Dave nodded mutely and watched her leave.

“She’s a robot,” Five said dryly, as if that cleared up any confusion.

Dave didn’t even have time to let that sink in when an ape walked into the room. “Good morning, Master Katz. How are you feeling?”

He blinked quickly, wondering if everything that was happening was just one strangely vivid dream. A small puff of air escaped his lips as he imagined waking up with Klaus in his arms, who would brush his hair out of his face and murmur that everything’s alright. When he opened his eyes again, the ape was still there and he was decidedly still in 2019. Fantastic.

  


To say the absolute least, it was an odd few days. Dave had to stay in the room he woke up, but after 24 hours he was allowed to get up and walk around. Other than a bit of soreness around the shockingly rapidly-healing gunshot wound and his tendency to get winded if he was on his feet for too long, he was back to a clean bill of health.

Not to say he wasn’t grateful, but Dave was _confused as hell._ He was being tended to by an ape, a robot, and a 58-year-old in the body of a 13-year-old, all of whom nursed him back from what should have been a fatal gunshot wound. _And_ his soulmate was on the other side of the door, and he wasn’t allowed to see him.

As odd as the future seemed to be, Dave thought it was nice so far. He hadn’t gotten one rude comment from anybody about the fact that his soulmate was… well… not a woman. And, whenever he prayed, everybody was completely fine with it. No wonder Klaus was so bad at hiding… everything. Everybody here is so accepting.

He had been deep in thought when suddenly a familiar voice shouted from outside the door. Dave jumped to his feet, looking over at Five. “That’s Klaus.” His voice was a near death-rattle of a whisper, scared that if he spoke any louder, the voice would disappear.

“Yeah,” Five frowned, tilting his head to listen.

_“He’s not dead! He’s not dead! He’s not dead!”_ It was slightly muffled, but to Dave’s ears it was clear as day.

Dave had been raised to be a strong man of steel—never faltering, not even when he was told he was to marry that girl from down the street. He’d come close to crying when he first found out he couldn’t see Klaus, but by some miracle he was able to hold that off. (When he heard gunshots, Five had to sedate him so he wouldn’t run out and kill whoever was threatening his soulmate.) But this was different. He could hear the anguish, the despair, the brokenness in Klaus’ cries, and it broke his heart. Without any sliver of hesitation, tears began to tumble onto his cheeks. “Oh, Klaus.”

Five’s jaw twitched as he took in a sharp breath through the nose. “It won’t be long now,” was all he said, and if his voice sounded a little wet, neither mentioned it.

“No, he’s in pain. He needs me,” Dave begged, turning his gaze to the door that kept him trapped inside. In a burst of energy, he ran over to the doors and attempted to throw them open, only to be stopped by Five suddenly appearing in front of him.

“You can’t. You—”

_“I’m sober, bitch!”_

A warmth started to replace the pain that had weighed down Dave’s heart and all of the fight left his body. “He’s sober?” he asked softly, a small smile taking over his features.

Five pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’m not sure why he chose now, but it seemed pretty important to him.”

Dave sighed. “Do I really have to stay here?” His tears had started to slow.

He was only met with a solemn nod.

There was no arguing, especially not with a person that could teleport. With that logic, Dave returned to the bed, sitting on the edge. “He promised me he would sober up when we got home,” he murmured.

Five’s face twisted with confusion. “Really? That doesn’t sound like him.”

Dave nodded. “He… He almost overdosed. Well, he did overdose. And he died.”

“What?”

He pressed on, not even acknowledging Five’s shock. “When he came back, he told me he never wanted to put me through that again. Since he could never stay sober—because of the war—he promised that as soon as we got our orders, he’d go cold turkey.”

“What do you mean he died?” Five asked gravely.

Dave shot him a confused look. “It’s part of his powers, right?”

“Holy shit.”

  


“Dave,” Five whispered. “Dave, wake up.”

The man made a sleepy sort of noise and shifted.

“Do you want to see Klaus or not?”

His eyes sprang open, shooting up into a sitting position. “What?”

“I said, do you want to see Klaus or not?” In the absence of a response, Five smiled and stepped back. “Today’s the day. You can go to him without disrupting the timeline.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” he said with a hint of a laugh. “He’s in his room. Up the stairs, right, left, second door.”

“Baruch HaShem!” Without another word, Dave flew out of the room.

He repeated Five’s directions as he sprinted through the surprisingly empty house (though, based off the lack of light coming in through the windows, it was probably in the middle of the night), only stopping when he reached the door. Suddenly, his heart was in his throat and he was staring at the wood, his fist hovering an inch away.

_What if he doesn’t want me back? What if he gets mad? What if—_

Deep breath.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

“Yeah?”

The groggy voice made his breath stutter in his chest. His words were caught, and he couldn’t respond for the life of him.

“What is it?” Klaus shouted again. “The door’s unlocked.”

Right. The door. With another deep breath, Dave pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Stunned silence stretched inside the room. Klaus was the first to break it. “Dave?” he asked tentatively.

Just hearing his name come past Klaus’ lips was enough to have him beaming. “Hey, doll.”

Like a rocket, there was a streak of color and suddenly Klaus was in Dave’s strong arms. He had to spin so they wouldn’t topple backwards, but Dave had no complaints. He peppered kisses anywhere he could reach, pausing when he tasted salty tears upon his lips.

“Oh, ahuvì,” he cooed sympathetically. After making sure he was firmly supporting Klaus’ weight, he started to walk over to the bed—as much as he loved having Klaus wrapped around him, the strain was starting to make his chest ache where it had just healed.

“I knew you were alive,” Klaus whispered, clutching onto Dave like he was drowning and Dave was a life preserver. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.”

“I know,” Dave sighed as he gently set him down on the bed and climbed in next to him. Klaus’ fingers fumbled over Dave’s skin and it took Dave a few moments to realize what he was searching for. When he did, he put his hands over his partner’s cold fingers and guided them right over his throat so he could properly feel his pulse. “I’m alive,” he said gently.

“I don’t want this to be a dream,” Klaus whispered, and it suddenly sunk in how broken his death must have left him.

Dave shook his head and pulled Klaus as close as he possibly could, pausing to take in his scent before whispering, “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I promise.”

  


Five didn’t linger long in the infirmary—he had things to do and people to kill. People, meaning Harold Jenkins, heralder of the apocalypse. With one hand in his pocket and his chin held high, he walked through the mansion towards the elevator. Instead of stepping in, he jumped to right outside of the cell that was holding Harold.

The man inside fell back in shock when he saw the flash of blue light, clutching at his chest. The movement brought a smirk to Five’s face, one that remained as he stepped inside the cell. “Harold Jenkins,” he said slowly, like he was savoring the taste of the name on his lips.

Harold tilted his chin up, trying—and failing—to seem unafraid. “Yeah?”

“You know, you’re an important man.” Five started slowly walking in a circle around the edge of the cell. “Your name is on the tongues of a lot of big people.”

“Oh?” He did an odd half-shrug thing that instantly made him ten times more punchable.

Five stopped his movements and leaned up against the wall. “Why are you obsessed with my family?”

“Obsessed?” Harold huffed out a few laughs. “I like your sister. I wouldn’t call that obsessed.”

“And what about that weird little shrine you have in your attic?”

The other fell silent.

“Do I need to jog your memory? It’s the one with all of our faces scratched out.”

No response.

“How did you get your hands on Reginald’s book?”

Harold seemed happy to answer that. “Oh,” he laughed. “It was your idiot brother, the junkie. He threw it away so he could sell some box—probably for money to pay for more drugs. My guess is he got tired of bending over and—”

“Shut the hell up,” Five growled, suddenly jumping inches away from the man and placing a knife under his chin. “I’m already going to kill you, but if you want it to be relatively quick and painless, you’d better choose your words carefully. Starting with not disrespecting any of my siblings. Got it?”

He gulped and slowly nodded his head. “I-I’m sorry.”

Five smiled and stepped back, though he kept the knife pointed at him. “Good. Now, tell me why you’re obsessed with my family, or you’ll start losing fingers.”

  


Klaus woke up to a pair of strong arms around his middle and warm, gentle breath tickling the back of his neck. As comfortable as it felt to have the other’s chest pressed into his back, Klaus still twisted to get a good look at him. His heart jumped when he saw the man’s sleeping face. _It’s Dave. It’s really Dave._

The relaxed, contented expression on Dave’s face suddenly twisted—his nose wrinkling and his eyebrows jumping up. Klaus was shifted as Dave inhaled deeply, his chest rising up. “Hey, baby,” Dave murmured after his eyes focused on Klaus. His deep and rough voice rumbled beneath Klaus.

“You’re still here,” Klaus smiled.

“I told you I wasn’t a dream.” Dave brushed his lips behind Klaus’ ear before turning him so he could kiss him properly.

Klaus brought his hands up to Dave’s cheeks. “I believe you,” he whispered. “I do have to ask, though…”

“Wanna see my scar?” Dave chuckled.

“Can I?”

Dave nodded and unbuttoned his shirt. The sight of the marred flesh made a harsh chill run down Klaus’ spine, and his lower lip wobbled when he ran his fingers over his chest.

“Does it hurt?”

“Only sometimes,” Dave said gently. “Five, Pogo, and your mom fixed me right up. I’m as good as new.”

Klaus swallowed back some tears and nodded, chewing on his lower lip. He didn’t look entirely convinced, so Dave pulled him into a tight hug against his chest. “I promise I’m alright. I’m here and I’m never leaving you, okay?”

They stayed like that for a moment, just basking in each other’s company, until Dave started to let his eyes wander about the room. The night before, it was too dark to reveal the features, but in the morning light he could see everything.

“What’s this?” Dave shifted so he could get a closer look at the multicolored hieroglyphics on the wall.

Klaus ducked his head. “Oh, I, um… sometimes my hand works faster than my mouth does and I have to write my ideas down before I say them, or else they’ll just—” he flapped his hand through the air “—fly away.”

Dave chuckled and circled his arms tight around Klaus’ waist, attacking the crook of his neck with kisses. “Oh yeah?”

Klaus squirmed and giggled. “Stop! I’m ticklish—you know that!”

It went on for a few more moments before Dave finally stopped, though he still kept his grip around Klaus. “Tell me what some of them say.”

An exaggerated sigh escaped Klaus’ lips. “They’re so embarrassing. I should have painted over them a while ago.”

“Please?”

“Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.” Klaus kissed him before shifting to get a better look at the wall. _“See no truth, speak no truth, hear no truth._ And this one says, _Yes, years gone by without a word, but now in ink that’s soon to smudge._ There’s also _Sounds like a crescendo. Oh hello, old friend, hello again. When I see it, it has already fooled the…”_ He trailed off and sucked his teeth. “I can’t read the rest. It’s all just a bunch of stuff like that.” 

“I love how your mind works,” Dave cooed. “You’re an artist, both with drawings and with words.” Klaus’ blush burned a bright red and he promptly buried his face into the crook of his soulmate’s neck.

  


An hour later, Klaus and Dave had rolled out of bed—urged by their growling stomachs—and headed to the kitchen. Much to their surprise, everybody was also in the kitchen, seemingly with the goal of satisfying their own hunger.

Vanya gasped quietly when she saw the couple holding hands. “Klaus, is that—?”

“Everybody, I have an announcement to make,” Klaus said happily. “This is Dave, my soulmate.”

There was a general cheer about the kitchen. Diego stepped forward to shake Dave’s free hand. “Nice to meet you, Dave. Take care of Klaus, or I will kill you.”

“Wow!” Klaus chirped with a glare at his brother. “Great, thank you so much for that. Totally not embarrassing or anything.”

Dave chuckled and squeezed Klaus’ hand. “It’s okay. I’m glad he cares about you enough to threaten my life for you.” He nodded at Diego, who copied the movement.

“I also have an announcement,” Five said as he pushed himself off the counter. He didn’t waste time waiting for dramatic effect like Klaus. “Harold Jenkins is dead.”

To the side, there was a loud crash. Everybody turned to see Vanya bend over, hurriedly trying to gather the shards of the teacup she was holding. The lights were flickering overhead and suddenly the wind had picked up. “Sorry, sorry, I’m—I just—”

“He was her boyfriend,” Klaus whispered to Dave. “Or, something like that.”

“Oh,” Dave said softly. He broke away from Klaus to help her clean up the mess.

Vanya paused to look at Dave. “Thank you.” The lights steadied and the wind died down.

“Wait, just like that?” Luther asked, stepping forward with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Did you get any information from him at all, or what?”

“Yeah,” Five said, glancing over at Vanya. “Our dear Vanya has powers.”

“You—”

“What?” Vanya looked up from the puddle of tea.

“Wait, wouldn’t we know this sooner?”

“The medicine suppressed them,” Five explained.

“Makes sense,” Klaus sighed.

“Oh my god,” Allison whispered.

“What?”

“I knew about this. Dad… he took me down to the cell when we were really little—when he told us Vanya was sick.” She averted her gaze. “He made me rumor her into thinking she was normal.”

“Holy shit.”

“I didn’t understand,” she rushed to explain. “I didn’t think anything of it! I…” Allison trailed off as wind started to whip around the room.

“Vanya, how about we go out to the living room real quick?” Dave asked gently. “We can worry about the tea later.”

Vanya nodded distantly and let Dave lead her out of the room.

“What do we do?” Luther asked.

“What do you mean, ‘What do we do?’” Diego scoffed. “We help her adapt and control her powers without the whole torture and abuse bit that _dear old dad_ pulled.”

Luther opened his mouth to protest Diego’s accusation, but Five pushed to talk before he could get a word out. “We need to keep her calm. Her emotions are tied to her powers, and obviously a lot of shit is going on.”

Everybody mumbled in agreement and the conversation fell into a lull. Allison sipped her coffee, looking a bit pale.

“K-Klaus, can I talk to you in private? In a bit?” Diego asked.

“What?” His eyes snapped away from the window. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

  


Klaus was sitting on Dave’s lap on the couch in the living room, playing with the man’s hand. “What did you say to Vanya? She seems a lot better now.” He traced over the lines on Dave’s palm.

“We just talked,” Dave shrugged. “About Harold and her powers and stuff. She feels really bad for bringing him into the house. She had no idea.”

“Of course not,” Klaus said softly.

“She wanted to go back on her medication to get rid of her powers, but we talked about it and she eventually decided it would be better to not suppress them any longer. She wants to work on controlling them, as long as she has a say in the—er—training.”

Klaus beamed at Dave. “You’re the best.”

“What did you guys talk about when we left?”

“Nothing, really. Luther was going to say some dumb shit, but that was shut down pretty quickly.” He hummed and squinted, trying to think about what else happened. “Diego wants to talk to me later.”

“About what?”

Off to the side, Eudora piped up. “I think it has something to do with me.”

Klaus hummed and nodded. “Could be… Eudora thinks it has to do with her.”

“Eudora?” Dave asked. “You mean Diego’s soulmate?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. I didn’t know she’d died.”

For a moment, Klaus’ heart surged at just how genuinely sad Dave was. “I didn’t either,” Klaus finally replied. “Diego seemed really torn up about it.”

Dave wrapped his arms around Klaus’ waist and set his chin on his shoulder. “Losing your soulmate isn’t easy.”

Klaus pressed Dave’s hand against his chest. “I know,” he murmured.

  


“What did you want to talk about?” Klaus asked as he closed the door behind him.

“It’s about Eudora.”

“Knew it,” Klaus whispered triumphantly and shot a look at the ghost in question. “What about her?” he asked Diego, making his voice more serious.

“I think I want to talk to her.”

The serious facade shattered. “Oh, goodie!” Klaus jumped and clapped his hands. The confused look on Diego’s face caught his eyes and he stopped to explain. “She’s been… sort of following me around.”

“She what?” Diego yelped.

“Yeah! She’s right here.” Klaus motioned to where she was standing at the foot of the bed Diego was sitting on, Diego’s eyes lingering on the spot. “I might be able to make her corporeal, but I’m not completely sure. Still working out this whole sobriety thing.”

He plopped down on the floor and squeezed his eyes shut. It took a few moments of silent concentration until he heard a gasp. “Do you see her?” Klaus didn’t risk opening his eyes, in case it distracted him.

“D-Dora?” Diego whispered, standing. The rest of the world fell away—leaving just Diego and Eudora in existence.

“Hey, Diego,” she replied softly.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was already wet with tears. “I should have—”

“It’s not your fault,” she pushed, closing the distance between them and holding onto his shaking hands. “Never yourself. There was no way you could have stopped this.”

“I-I-I could get Five to bring you back! Like what he did with Dave!” Much to his frustration, Diego’s stutter was starting to take over his speech, but that didn’t stop his frantic words.

Eudora shook her head. “I thought about that. He can’t bring me back—it would mess with the timeline too much.” She winced when Diego let out a strangled sob and pulled him closer. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, guys?” Klaus’ strained voice broke through the illusion of solitude the soulmates were experiencing. “As touching as this is, I don’t think I can hold this much longer.”

“Right,” Eudora sighed and wiped away a tear. “Hey, I’ve been listening, and I don’t want you to get revenge, okay? And I don’t want you to—don’t blame yourself.” She stepped forward and placed a gentle hand against Diego’s cheek; he couldn’t resist leaning into the touch. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Diego hiccupped.

“Now go stop the apocalypse.”

When she faded away, Diego stayed frozen, like he was holding onto the feeling of her skin against his. He scrambled to burn the image of her joking smile in his mind. Klaus watched Eudora disappear from the room and sighed. “Sorry I couldn’t hold it longer. I’ll get better at it.”

Diego suddenly rushed forward and pulled Klaus into a tight hug, squeezing a small, surprised oof from the seance’s lips. Once he realized what was going on, he hugged him back.

“Thank you,” Diego stuttered. “Thank you so much.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Klaus patted his back. “It’s the least I could do. And I’ll practice so I can keep her physical longer. Promise.”

“I’m going to do what she asked,” Diego promised as he pulled away. “N-No revenge.”

Klaus grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey! That’s what I call growth!”

Diego sniffed and backed up until he was sitting on his bed. He dropped his head into his hands and took a deep breath. Klaus frowned and sat down beside him, rubbing his back. “It’ll be okay,” Klaus whispered.

“I have an announcement to make.”

“Oh, goodie, another announcement. Because the last one went so well.” Klaus sent a sympathetic look over to Vanya from where he was lounging across Dave’s and Diego’s laps.

“Shut up,” Five sighed and took another sip of his coffee before continuing. “Today is the second of April.”

“That’s why we call him the smart one,” Klaus told Dave matter-of-factly, interrupting an increasingly frustrated Five.

“Jesus christ, please shut up. Like I said, today is the second of April, which means that we have officially stopped the apocalypse.”

“Wait—” Diego started.

“It’s over? No apocalypse?” Allison asked.

“I wouldn’t say it’s over,” Five said. “We still have the Commission to worry about and—”

Klaus threw a pillow at Five. “Shut up and let us be happy for a few minutes,” he hissed.

“We should celebrate,” Ben said.

“Hey, that’s a great idea!” Klaus yelled. There was a moment of silence as everybody waited for Klaus to fill them in. When he didn’t, Dave gently brushed Klaus’ curls out of his face.

“Doll, do you mind telling us this great idea?”

“Oh yeah! Ben said we should celebrate.”

Luther rolled his eyes, and Diego was quick to jump to Klaus’ defense. “He sees ghosts, so it’s not hard to believe that he can see Ben. Also, he’s not on drugs—he’s just happy. Maybe you don’t recognize that because you didn’t bother to get to know him when he was sober. Anything else?”

There was a quiet, stunned moment, before Klaus murmured a thank you and Dave clapped Diego on the shoulder.

“About that celebration,” Vanya said before Luther could protest, “I think we should go to Griddy’s.”

“That’s a great idea, Vanya,” Allison said with a smile.

“When should we go?” Five asked, not looking nearly as bothered by the idea as he was trying to seem.

“How about now?”

  


Just a few minutes later, they were all climbing out of their cars. Klaus gasped and held up a hand. “You guys go ahead. Diego, can I talk to you? It’ll just take a couple seconds, I promise. I hope.”

“Uh, okay?” Diego raised an eyebrow and let the others file into the restaurant. “What’s going on?”

Klaus shifted his weight and rubbed his hands over his face. “Right. Well, I’ve been practicing and I think I might be able to keep Eudora corporeal while we eat.”

Diego got caught on a stutter for a few moments. In lieu of words, he pulled Klaus into a hug. Suddenly, there was a light cough and he quickly pulled away. “Eudora,” he stuttered, sounding almost relieved. He stepped over and pulled her into a deep kiss.

“You forgot to do that last time,” Eudora joked when they parted.

“I won’t—I’ll never forget to do that again.”

Klaus smiled to himself and headed into the diner. He sat down next to Dave, who promptly wrapped a hand around his waist and placed a kiss on his lips. _Maybe this whole soulmate thing isn’t so bad,_ he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3 Comments and kudos are much appreciated!
> 
>   * Baruch HaShem = Thank God
>   * Yes Klaus is touch starved, no he isn't used to being loved, and no I will not debate this further. Do I want to make a Klaus Protection Squad? Yes.
>   * I would die for Dave. Period. The end. That's it.
>   * You guys!!! I'm finally done with the fic! I hope you all really enjoyed it. I already have an idea for another fic (it's gonna be pretty long I'm very excited) and a oneshot, but I'm definitely willing to do some side fics in this universe if I get any ideas. (Maybe about Vanya's training? Or them dealing with the Commission? Or both?)
> 


**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note:
> 
>   * The title is from Take A Giant Step by The Monkees and it has so much Klave energy (plus it is a really good song) everybody should go listen to it right now
>   * I’m not going to go into too much detail because that was a really long fic, but conditions in Vietnam were HORRIBLE. If anybody wants me to compile a list of references and first hand accounts I’m using for my fics, [just shoot me an ask](https://dyll-pickless.tumblr.com/ask) or comment here.
> 



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